Halfway to Hell
by blackash
Summary: The war has rolled to a stand still, and Duo sinks into depression. In an attempt to get back at the Gods, he tries to commit suicide. Key word, tries. Everything pretty much goes to hell from there.
1. A Divine Joke

Halfway To Hell

Halfway To Hell

I just had the idea for this fic, and I have no idea how it will end up, so your reviews do matter! They could influence the way I choose to make things happen. I'm pretty sure that this is an original but if I may have inadvertently stolen someone's ideas, I apologize whole-heatedly and remind you that copying is the highest form of complementing! 

Oh, and by the way, **This Is Not A Death Fic!**

Warning this fic may contain: angst, depression, shonen-ai, cursing, and traces of child abuse, rape, etc. etc.

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Chapter 1: A Divine Joke

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More nightmares.

Duo stared into the bathroom mirror dejectedly, and wondered whom he had pissed off enough to be forced to deal with this mental torture.

Honestly, he'd take twenty Ozzies and a holding cell over this.

It had been the usual, nothing new.

That made it all the worse.

Solo, Sister, Father, Soldiers, Innocents…

Round and round, it never stopped until he woke up sweating.

Now here he was, back where he always ended up. Holed up in the bathroom, pondering how fucked up his life was.

He wondered distantly what he done that Shinigami refused to take him. He supposed that some people would consider him lucky, even envy his ability to survive the way he did.

Those people were idiots.

To watch everyone you love and care for die, while you yourself come out with nothing more than a couple of scrapes that don't even leave any scars - visible scars at any rate… it wasn't worth it.

He realized that they were fighting a war. And that there wasn't room for depression in wars, but it wasn't his fault. It was those damn Ozzies' fault, or better yet those dam Docs' fault.

After all, he wasn't the one who had slowed this fucked up war to a stand still, now was he.

Because with no one to fight, and after being locked up in a safe house with four others for nearly two months, there was nothing to do but steep in one's memories. Especially at night.

After the dreams, all alone in the bathroom, there was nothing to do but to remember those terrible hellish dreams of his past. This of course was followed by memories, of the rest of his past, the beatings of the alliance soldiers on a defenseless street rat, the smell of the plague, the feel of heartless fingers on a scared child in shadow of a cold alley, the jeers of cruel children, and the interrogations that face one lone freedom fighter…

It all went round and round inside his head, and whenever he managed to pull himself out of it he was only met with the terror of his nightmares.

Duo Maxwell wasn't stupid. He knew, at least on some level what was happening to him. However he could not seem to force himself to care. On some level he knew that he needed help, but the rest of him couldn't handle even the thought of confessing his problems, not to the others, not to a stranger, not even to Quatre.

Duo Maxwell wasn't stupid, he took care of himself, he ate properly, and slept as much as he could when he could. He didn't even try unorthodox methods of retaining his sanity. He didn't try doing drugs, or drinking, or cutting. But if he was going to be honest the only reason he hadn't tried those was because he suspected that Heero would figure it out the moment the Duo tried it, and give him hell about it.

Not because he cared, of course. No. Heaven forbid that the perfect soldier could ever give a damn about anyone, even himself! No, Heero would catch him and stop him and give him hell, not because Duo was endangering himself, but because he was endangering the mission!

Stupid, fucking, mission obsessed Heero Yuy!

Sometimes Duo was sure that his life was the product of some divine practical joke. And to be honest, he was really getting sick of it…

Suddenly a thought occurred to him that he found quite funny. He found it so funny in fact that he fell backwards onto his butt from his position on against the counter and degenerated into a fit of not quite sane giggles.

Had he been thinking straight, Duo would have realized just how flawed his thinking was and let the idea go. But he wasn't, so he didn't. After all, it would obviously be hilariously funny if he were to turn the joke of the gods back upon them, forcing their sadism to backfire on them in the most spectacular manner possible – simply by refusing to be the object of their sadism any longer.

With a smile on his face, the young man got to his feet and stumbled over to medicine cabinet.

It was just his luck of course that the one medicine cabinet he chose to look in was empty… wait, no it wasn't.

There was a small-unmarked bottle on the top shelf. It was old and dusty and could not possibly be safe for human consumption…perfect!

Duo quickly filled a glass with water, and struggled for a minute, trying to pry open the stubborn cap of the pill bottle. If he had been in his right mind, he would have taken the resistance as a sign that he was making a bad choice. But he wasn't, so instead of reconsidering, he realized how inconsiderate it would be for the others to wake up to his dead body on the bathroom floor in the morning. So, being the good person that he was, the young man grabbed the now open pill bottle and the glass of water and stole silently back into his room.

Once there, he locked the door behind and sat on his bed. He took a moment to observe his messy room. He noted the half made bombs and scattered gun parts, the random junk as well as the bags of food that he stored all around. Despite what the others thought, he didn't keep his room this way because he was just sloppy or disorganized. He was almost positive that his pack-rat behavior was the result of his childhood on the streets and his innate fear of not having enough. Or something like that, he wasn't a physiatrist, after all. But he wasn't stupid, regardless of what anyone thought, and had at least paid some attention to some of G's more "educational" tangential rants.

Not that any of that would matter in the morning.

This thought in mind, Duo took a gulp of water, closed his eyes and downed every last pill in the little unmarked bottle. That done, he set down the glass and the bottle on the bedside table with two quiet thunks.

The teen let out a tired yawn. All jokes aside, he was just so tired. Tired of running and hiding and hurting and, and…just so tired of everything. But now he could sleep. Duo Maxwell cocooned himself in his covers, and prepared himself for what he hoped to be a very long, very peaceful rest.

And the Gods up in heaven and down in hell laughed their sadistic asses off, because come morning they would be springing the greatest joke of all time upon a poor unsuspecting world.

So, let this be a lesson to you boys and girls, when committing suicide, stick to knives, water or heights, and never go near unmarked bottles, because you just never know what will happen.

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So…How was it? Bad, good, okay? Please review and tell me! But no flames, just constructive criticism, because I don't think my poor heart can handle blatant cruelty!

Ahem…Sorry. Just review and tell me what you think so I can know if I should put up my next chapter so that you readers can find out exactly how Duo messes up his suicide attempt.


	2. Normalcy Doesn’t Last Forever

Halfway To Hell

Halfway To Hell

Warning this fic may contain: angst, depression, shonen-ai (Take the hints anyway you want; i.e.: Quatre's blatantly obvious crush), cursing, and traces of child abuse, rape, etc. etc.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing.

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Chapter 2: Normalcy Doesn't Last Forever

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The sun was shining, the birds were singing and all in all, Quatre Rebarba Winner was positive that today was going to be a beautiful- trouble free day at one of his 'smaller' mansions in the countryside.

The blond smiled happily as he mixed the contents of the large bowl in front of him, while ordering the events of the day in his head.

After breakfast, he would 'persuade' one of the others to clean up for him, and then get another, hopefully Wufei (the only one besides himself that could cook without the results being to terrifying or disgustingly bland) to cook lunch in Quatre's stead. Then he would go to the underground garage to visit his dear friend Sandrock, consequently making sure that his friend was still in proper working order, prepared for the unlikely event of an unexpected mission in this disturbingly quiet lull in the war. Unfortunately, the odds of that were looking impossibly dim. (He sighed tiredly at this, because even if one did come up, he would have to fight tooth and nail with the others for it. Being confined to a safe house, even one as large and beautiful as their current residence for almost two months was a _tad_ stressful/stifling/maddening…but he was digressing…) Once he was done in garage, he would eat lunch with whoever bothered to show up, then he would check up on his company through his laptop, and then the rest of the afternoon would be spent doing something with Trowa…

His musings were cut off as he heard the door to the outside porch swing open. Right on time. He smiled slightly at the fact that he didn't even have to look to know who was there.

Some people, he supposed, might be irritated by just how predictable their lives had become in this quiet time of pseudo peace. And to be honest, he was quite sure that if the war didn't pick up _soon_, he _would_ go insane…however, there was a certain amount of comfort in it. The predictability, that is. For once it was nice just to have a routine, to have the _luxury_ of being bored, of simply having nothing to do. No battles to plan, no colonies to save, no comrades to worry over. So no matter how dull it got, holed up here in this little out of the way mansion, he did his best not to take the experience or granted.

After all, sooner or later, the war would start up again. He also knew that when that happened he would be spending a great many of his spare moments longing for this time of monotony. Or at least he thought he would, but some days it really was getting to the point where he would give anything for a little bit of excitement.

"Good morning Heero," He greeted the other teen amiably; "Did you have a good workout?"

"Hn." Responded the brunette.

"That's wonderful Heero, it's pancakes today, would you like some?" Quatre continued on, unperturbed by the other's less than sociable conversation. He was used to it by now.

The blond didn't bother waiting for a response. He wasn't liable to get one and by now he already knew the answer anyway. He only bothered asking to be polite. He smiled warmly and flipped on the burner and began to heat up the pan. "Alright then, three plain pancakes coming right up! Oh, and Trowa went to the store yesterday, so if you're in the mood for milk there's some in the refrigerator."

The Arabian pilot didn't need to look up as he poured some of the batter onto the pan in neat little circles to know that Heero had already proceeded to retrieve the milk…and…

'Enter Wufei,'Quatre cued silently.

The quiet creak of stairs out in the main hall alerted both pilots to Wufei's approach. They could tell immediately that it was the black haired terrorist, because he was the only pilot whose very steps permeated of pride and confidence. Approximately seven seconds later (So what if he could predict the course of his day down to a second?) Wufei marched into the kitchen, looking slightly more peaceful for his three hours of early morning meditation.

"Good morning Wufei." Quatre greeted the new comer with a smile, but he had already dismissed the Chinese youth from the forefront of his mind in favor of counting the seconds until…ah! Sometimes (not always, but sometimes), he truly loved predictability.

"Trowa…" he breathed fondly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as the green-eyed acrobat glided silently into the room. Trowa smiled slightly in the blond Arabian's direction, causing the Arabian pilot to forget how to breathe.

Promptly forgetting Heero's pancakes, the only truly decent cook in the house (including Wufei, whose food merely bordered on edible placing him in a far second to the blonde) abandoned his post in favor of a chance to talk with his favorite brunette.

As he moved closer to the door, and Trowa, Quatre smiled affectionately at the tallest pilot, "Good Morning! I hope you slept well?"

Trowa treated the shorter pilot to a small, but warm smile and quietly responded that it was a fine morning, and that yes he had slept well, and in turn questioned Quatre as to his well-being.

Quatre was practically on cloud nine. It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing, the pancakes were cooking and he was spending time with Trowa. It was perfect.

And yet…

Despite the good mood that saturated the kitchen, and the promise of a trouble free day, Quatre couldn't help but feel that something was off. He just could not figure out what.

It was only several seconds after he had responded to Trowa's question with something along the lines of, "I'm quite fine, thank you" that he realized it.

He realized it just moments before Trowa and Wufei and only an instant after Heero…Someone was missing… and shouldn't Duo have appeared approximately three seconds ago and berated Quatre for leaving the stove unattended…

Everyone froze as they simultaneously realized…

"Duo," breathed Heero, vocalizing what was on all of their minds.

The result was instantaneous.

The four youths went into pilot mode.

All four pulled out their guns and Trowa, Heero and Wufei gathered around Quatre, as one, he was their strategic genius and two; it was his house/mansion.

Thinking quickly, the Arabian devised a plan, and with a soldier's calm, relayed it to his comrades. "Trowa check the security feed, Heero check your laptop in case he got a mission. Wufei go down to the garage and make sure he didn't pull an all-nighter in his Gundam. I'll go up to his room and see if he, uh slept in." Each pilot nodded and immediately set out to fulfill their part of the plan.

* * *

Quatre hurried to the main hall and up the stairs to third floor as fast he could without making an obvious amount of noise. As he went, his space heart began reacting more and more strangely. His heart told him that Duo wasn't in any danger or in pain…but despite that, he could not shake the feeling that something was still…off. By the time he made it up to the braided pilot's room, his heart was beating rapidly with worry.

He paused outside Duo's room to check the surroundings. Nothing was out of place; even the bathroom down the hall that the American shared with Heero appeared to be in good order.

But he worried nonetheless and refused to let down his guard. His space heart had never picked up false readings before and he knew for a fact that the odd vibe that he had been feeling faintly in the back of his mind all day was suddenly a great deal stronger the closer he got to…he cut off the thought with a slight frown. There was no point in over thinking things before he had anything concrete to worry about. After all, Duo was probably fine.

This is mind he reached out to open the door…

Quatre's heart sank and he nearly cursed aloud; it was locked.

It wasn't that he was opposed to locking doors. Allah knows that he himself locked his bedroom door often as not. But if it was locked, that meant Duo was in there. There was no point in locking it if he wasn't because none of the other pilots would go near has bedroom without the justification of talking to him. This was simply because the other four pilots were smart, and knew they had a better chance of surviving an Oz capture and interrogation unscathed than walking into Duo's bomb infested war zone of a room and surviving…

In any case, the American was in there and the blonde empath couldn't help but feel that whatever he found in there wouldn't be to his liking. And that only made him more concerned because as Quatre had learned years ago his strange and inexplicable "feelings" were never wrong.

Shoving his worries aside and putting his gun back in his hostler, he set about picking the lock. It took over seven minutes and several buckets of sweat (he had almost messed up several times). Had it been any of the other pilots' doors he could have finished in a third of the time. Duo's lock took so long because the demolitions expert had taken it upon himself to "upgrade" his room's security.

In other words, our favorite (and consequently only) braided pilot had rigged all nine of the bolts on his door so that picking them in the wrong order and in the wrong way would trigger, in Duo's words, "a particularly nasty little bugger that will probably take out the entire wing of the 'house', (sorry Q-bean!)" (Complete with the hand-signed quotation marks and everything). The Arabian thanked Allah that the American had warned the others about it after he had learned about their "slightly" extended stay at the mansion.

That out of the way: Quatre carefully opened the door and cautiously made his way inside.

The room looked like it had been hit by a small tornado and trampled by a heard of angry elephants.

Well, nothing unusual there.

Quatre's trained eye quickly surveyed the room, taking inventory of his surroundings. Random bags of food (mostly past the sell by date), scattered pieces of bomb and gun parts, laptop buried under random bits of paper, crumpled articles of black clothing…a suspicious lump protruding from the bed…hold on.

Watchful for any stray objects (like a throwing knife, oh and that sharp piece of metal protruding ominously from the mess on the floor…), the blond picked his way across the room and over to the bed. Once there he examined it with a critical eye: the pillows were askew and the blankets were tucked around the lump like some sort of protective cocoon. Quatre smiled hopefully; perhaps he would pull back those covers and find a Duo that was perfectly all right, if a little annoyed at being woken up after pulling a long night in the Deathsythe.

The smile faded instantly, as he recalled that Duo _never_ slept in, granted he might _pretend_ to, but he never did. He didn't even bother to consider a prank; the American knew how badly an unexplainable rut in their routine would affect the others, and Quatre didn't think he was bored enough yet to try anyway, just to see the consequences. But besides all of that, there was still that off-feeling that wouldn't go away.

Something just wasn't right.

Tentatively, the blue-eyed Arabian reached out a hand and gently peeled the blankets back…

And there, was Duo.

He _looked_ fine, but Quatre couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Not that he had much time to ponder that thought…

The braided pilot's eyes snapped open.

However instead of being filled with the good humor that the young man was famous for, his violet eyes were clouded with pure terror. Duo Maxwell, self-proclaimed Shinigami, pilot of the Deathsythe, opened his mouth and screamed.

The blond was so shocked that he fell backward onto his but with a short, utterly degrading, high pitched shriek. After that, all he saw was a streak of black and brown, and then there was silence.

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So…who knows what I did to Duo? The first person to guess right gets a cookie!!

In any case, was this chapter any good? (Besides the fact that I tend to go ellipse happy ) Please tell me what you think, because if no one like it then I'll just throw this story out.

Ah yes, and thank you to my lovely reviewers!!

HeeroDuo4eva - Thanks for the review, and here's an update for you! 

QueenNarca – Thanks for reviewing. Sorry about the cliffhanger, and the one in this chapter too, but you'll find out what I did in the next update, that is if I decide to keep working on this. To be honest, the more I think about it, I don't know if it's good enough to finish. But I'll get in a few more chapters at least, I think.

Abi2 – Yes the Gods are quite sadistic, if I wasn't the one behind all of this, I'd probably pity our poor, err… hero? You're right it doesn't really fit him; maybe I'll just refer to him as the protagonist. That works, right?

In any case, please review and tell me what you think of this newest chapter! But no flames, just constructive criticism, because I don't think my poor heart can handle blatant cruelty!


	3. Duo?

Halfway To Hell

Warning this fic may contain: **angst**, depression, shonen-ai, cursing, and traces of child abuse, rape, etc. etc.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing.

Review Responses

**Abi2** – Actually, he isn't. If you want to know the truth, your idea didn't even occur to me until you suggested it. Anyway, I'm glad you're curious; hopefully this chapter will shed some light on the subject for you! 

**Lil' Hanyou Girl** – Define Okay. I can't really tell you if Duo's okay or not, because that's a complicated thing and really depends on you look at it. In any case, thanks for the review and read on!

**Calli Maxwell** – Thanks, I'm glad you like this fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**The wolf hybrid fox** – Your muse almost hit the bull's-eye with that second guess! I'm glad you like it, and you should be proud that you were the only one who got close to the correct answer! Please take these yummy virtual cookies as thanks

**Fantasy or Reality**– I'm glad I was able to make you laugh/snicker. You have no idea how happy that makes me! I take reactions like that as a huge complement because this fic is supposed to be funny, among other things…Also I'm glad you like the sadistic gods, I'm not sure yet though, whether or not I should have them appear again. What do you think? Your guesses, well, neither was right, but the idea of Duo being blind is kind of interesting, I honestly hadn't thought of that as an option.

**Beastiewolf** – Here's the update, I hope it didn't too long, and that your sanity endured the ordeal in one-piece  Yeah, Duo is awesome, isn't he?

**QueenNarca** – Thanks for your encouragement and the review! I'm glad that you like the description of Duo's room, it just fits him, you know?

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Chapter 2: Duo?

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Quatre blinked.

Then for good measure, he blinked again.

'Wait a second…' the blonde thought through the muddled mess that his mind and senses had become in the aftermath of Duo's…

'Hold on, Duo? What…Where...Huh?'

This was how the pilots found him when they came guns bared into the room, roughly five minutes after the Arabian's resounding shriek had echoed through the halls of his 'house'.

Trowa came in first, but only because he practically pushed Heero out of the way. Heero had let him only because he knew how perilous it could be to run into Duo's room without proper preparation (the time when Wufei was catapulted out of the braided pilot's window, covered in pudding and feathers, came to mind Luckily for the Deathscythe pilot, it had been several weeks into their confinement, so no one had gotten too angry, even the Chinese pilot, as they had all appreciated the distraction). He also didn't trust Trowa not to do something stupid if anyone or anything got between him and the Winner heir after _that _scream. Upon entering, the uni-bangèd pilot quickly determined a lack immediate threat, and then rushed to Quatre's side without any other thought in his head besides the blond's well being.

Heero followed closely behind Trowa (after checking for hidden pranks/traps/potentially lethal 'toys' that just happened to be lying around. You never can be too careful, after all!) and stood several feet away from the green and blue eyed pilots as he scanned the room quickly once, as a preliminary and several more times to reassurance of the room's safety.

Wufei was last because he simply had the farthest to go, since he had been down in the garage when he heard the Quatre's cry. The black haired pilot stood in the doorway, to prevent any intruder from escaping.

From his immediate inspection, Heero couldn't identify anything unusual in the room. This however couldn't stop him from instinctively knowing that there was something unusual even if he couldn't recognize it.

"Winner. Report." Even as he spoke, Heero's eyes never failed in their scanning of the scene.

It took the blond several seconds to regain control of his thought process. Trowa's presence had helped, but it was the Wing pilot's calm precision in the face of uncertainty that had finally anchored him back to reality. Once he could comprehend Heero's inquiry, Quatre mentally went over the events of the past few minutes, and then relayed them aloud, in Arabic, in case anyone was listening in.

As the blond spoke, Heero couldn't help but be slightly distracted by something…He couldn't explain it. He recognized what it was, to an extent, but he just couldn't put a name to it.

The Arabian finished his story, and the Japanese youth forced himself to concentrate on the particulars of the account, and think about the oddity latter. The moment he stopped thinking about it he knew what it was.

"Smoke?"

All four pilots could only blink in bewilderment. Why on earth would there be smoke in the mansion?

Three of the said pilots were startled out of their confusion by a string of very colorful Arabic curses.

"Quatre…" Trowa murmured softly, but for once the other paid him no heed.

Sandrock's pilot leapt to his feet and ran out of the room, leaving his comrades with only coherent words to make sense of, (besides the profanity, of course). What they managed to glean form the blonde's rant was something along the lines of, "Remind… kitchen… Duo… cakes… Heero… fire… house… shit!"

The three remaining pilots could only stare at the blond's after-image in shock. However, being Gundam pilots they overcame their surprise with ease. Or at least something resembling ease.

"Is it just me, or did Winner just break the sound barrier?"

"Hn."

"Will he be alright?"

As Trowa spoke, Heero signaled him to stay alert but keep talking. He had found something. Trowa and Wufei continued their discussion of Quatre, in hopes of keeping the intruder from knowing that they were aware of his presence while Heero began to surreptitiously walk closer to the corner of the room farthest from Duo's bed. In that corner, located next to the open closet, was a large dresser that was stuffed to over flowing (with what, no one, except Duo knew). It was neither the closet nor the dresser that he was interested in. The Wing Pilot was slowly but surely approaching the shadowy space between the two.

The Japanese pilot finally reached his destination and with the utmost care, lowered himself into a squatting position in front of the space. Throughout his movements he had kept his eyes trained on the darkness. He was rewarded for his patience by a slight movement in the shadows that proved his suspicions.

Not quite sure how to handle the situation Heero reached out into the darkness with the hand not holding his gun. This was simply because if whoever was hiding in their did happen to be Duo, he didn't want to shoot his comrade in arms if the Deathscythe pilot did something unexpected.

In all honesty, though he hated to admit it, Heero Yuy sometimes hated his foresight.

He should have worn gloves.

"Dammit!" Cried the Asian as he pulled his left hand out of the darkened space with enough force to give a normal people a steady dose of whiplash. Even as he instinctively pulled the appendage close to his body, his training kicked in causing his right hand to aim his gun into the darkness, his finger on the trigger, poised to shoot.

The other two pilots were so surprised at the outburst from the normally stoic pilot that they almost forgot to aim their guns at the threat.

"Status 01" Wufei demanded.

When the other pilot failed to respond after several seconds, the Chinese pilot became half annoyed and half worried…in that order.

"Yuy!"

The shout apparently got through to the distracted pilot as he immediately responded, although somewhat hesitantly, "It bit me."

"It?" questioned Trowa.

"Yes it" confirmed the Shenlong Pilot with a superior smirk, "What's in there is neither man nor onna. There's no question about it, after all, there's only one creature alive that would have the audacity to bite _the perfect soldier_. Oh and by the way," he added, almost as an after thought, "You really should get that checked Yuy; you might get rabies. I mean when was the last time Maxwell got his shots."

"He'll get them now if he doesn't get out here," Heero growled in Japanese causing Wufei's smirk to grow dangerously and Trowa to chuckle lowly at his comment. All three expected Duo to jump out and say crack some lame joke and run out of down to the kitchen to hide behind Quatre's apron (metaphorically of course, the Winner had never actually worn an apron, but it didn't take much imagination to picture it).

"Come out." He practically snarled at his hidden comrade in English.

The answer was high pitched and half drowned in a heavy accent, "Like hell I will, you bastards!"

The pilots were so caught of guard by, if not the answer, then the speaker's voice. On one level the words were something Duo might say, but the voice had been far too high for it to be him.

"Maxwell…" began Heero, even as the lurker cut him off once again.

"Piss off, jerks!" snarled the Pseudo-Duo, "Go to Hell and leave me alone!"

The three pilots were rather at a loss on how to handle the situation, even Heero was unsure how to handle the problem. Had they known that the person in hiding wasn't Duo, they wouldn't have had a problem with shooting whoever was there first, and then doing a background check once all was said and done. However, they had no idea whether the voice belonged to Duo or not.

Surprisingly the first one to regain his mental equilibrium was Trowa. The green-eyed pilot glanced around the room as though assessing any possible outcome that could occur, then slipped his gun back into his jacket and signaled to Heero using both of his now free hands.

He got both the Wing pilot and Nataku pilot's attention with ease and then proceeded to relate his plan to them using sign language. 'The intruder is most likely 02. There is obviously something wrong, and as he is most comfortable with 01, 05 and I should leave and allow 01 to handle the situation.'

Before Heero could manage an argument, Wufei had already signed an affirmative, and the two were gone. They closed the door behind them. At least they were polite in their betrayal.

While he could understand some of their reasoning, some of it simply escaped him. For example, he understood that he was the most effective and efficient of the five pilots, but he didn't understand how that could help in this situation. He also didn't understand why Trowa and Wufei were convinced that Duo was comfortable with him. He knew for a fact that Duo acted relaxed around all of the pilots, random people they met on mission, even around Relena. He also knew that it was all a façade simply for that reason. Even Quatre couldn't stand the pink princess. So why should Duo have that ability?

It took all of Heero's training to repress the sigh that was desperately trying to escape him; it wasn't any of his business anyway. Duo could hide all he wanted, it was what he did best, if his catch phrase was to be believed.

And Heero would let him hide, as long as it didn't become detrimental to their missions, because it wasn't his problem. He wasn't going to get involved. It was the American's choice to isolate himself, after all.

As much as Duo seemed to excel at hiding, however, it was unacceptable for him to hole up in a corner of his room. Literal hiding was where Duo crossed the line between personal problems and mutual problems of the five housemates.

Deciding to finish this nonsense before it got any further, the Japanese pilot squared his shoulders, gave his hand one last mournful look (it was _still_ bleeding from where the concealed pilot had bitten), and put his plan into action. Maxwell would find himself out in the open, whether or not he was ready for it.

Heero moved from his squatting position to a kneeling position. He also put his gun away as it was unnecessary. (For two reasons; 1. Duo had had a gun he would have used it, and 2. Heero didn't need a gun to subdue the braided pilot; he was stronger.)

Mindful of the consequences for his hand if he failed to anticipate Duo's moves, the Wing pilot once again reached out into the darkness. He sensed it just before it happened and so he was prepared. Instead of allowing the other pilot to bite him or trying to pull his hand out of the way, he pushed his hand into the open mouth thus rendering it an ineffective weapon. He only had a moment to recognize that the space into which he had shoved his hand was surprising small.

This was because there were suddenly hands clawing at his arms. Dammit, he had better be able to use his arm to maximum efficiency after this, or else he was going to beat the loud American into a bloody pulp.

After several moments of struggle, the Japanese youth was able to discern where his captive's movements. Then it was only a matter of seconds until he found the opportune moment to strike.

He released Maxwell's face and made a grab in the darkness for the teen's shirt. He got a proper grip on the second try (and that was only because he appeared to miscalculate Duo's size, but he was too busy to worry about that).

The moment he had let go of the American's mouth, a steam of curses (in varying languages, but all extremely crude) and cries had been let loose. Heero's hold on the teen's collar apparently did little to stop that. Heero resisted the urge to sigh; the Deathscythe pilot never really did shut up, even if it all was some stupid mask.

Wing's pilot tightened his grip on the cloth in his hand and heaved Duo up and out.

This action was followed by the sound of flesh impacting wood.

The blue-eyed teen's brows furthered together in annoyance. He had only meant to pull the smaller teenager out of the shadows and then yell at him, however he seemed to have miscalculated duo's weight as instead, the braided baka had gone flying through the air.

Heero quickly turned on his heel in order to face his comrade and so called best friend. He didn't expect what he saw. There was a mass of black cloth piled near the wall, the only clue he had that there was a person inside of it was the a small spot of chestnut colored hair just barely visible from inside the heap.

"Maxwell…" He began warningly, hoping to calm the other teen down before he started anything.

His warning was met with muffled shouts that he couldn't quite make out. Well that plan backfired.

It took a few moments, but Duo managed to free himself form the masses of black cloth and stood upright to his full height of…40 inches? (That's roughly 101 centimeters)

"Duo?"

* * *

I know I cut off at an odd point but I just wanted to get this chapter out, so sorry for the little cliffy. In any case, who knows what I did to Duo now? Is everyone more confused than before on that point? Did I keep all of the pilots in character? Was the chapter's pase good, or too fast? Where there a lot of gramar and speeling error? I can really use some feedback, and for the people who know what is going on, some suggestions are readily acknowledged.

And of course the most important question of all, was this chapter any good and what did you think about it? However no flames please, just constructive criticism, because I don't think my poor heart can handle blatant cruelty!

P.S. I decided not to trash this story, but I may not be able to update as often as I'd like because of school and the like. So please accept my apologies for the slow updates in advance!


	4. Anchor in the Storm

Halfway To Hell

Warning this fic may contain: **angst** (Sorry, the last chapter wasn't really very angsty but that because I had intended to have this chapter as part of the last one...ah well), depression, shonen-ai, cursing, and traces of child abuse, rape, etc. etc.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gundam Wing.

Review Responses

**Hitokimi**** – **Grins Your guess was right on! Congrats!

**Lil' Hanyou Girl** – I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope that this one is up to par! Oh and don't worry, I managed to actually get out everything I wanted to say in this chapter, finally!

**CrazyDreamin**– You bet I did! And isn't he adorable! Or at least he will be, after a decent meal. Oh, and congratulations! You were the first one to get the right answer! Cookies for you!

**Abi2** – I'm glad you found the last chapter so amusing; I hope this one is just as good.

**Beastiewolf**– Ah… no. He's not a pixie or a demon or anything supernatural like that, in fact, he's really rather ordinary in comparison to all that, but the answers are all below so just keep on reading!

**Recap

* * *

**

"**Maxwell…" He began warningly, hoping to calm the other teen down before he started anything. **

**His warning was met with muffled shouts that he couldn't quite make out. Well that plan backfired.**

**It took a few moments, but Duo managed to free himself form the masses of black cloth and stood upright to his full height of…40 inches? (That's roughly 101 centimeters)**

"**Duo?"

* * *

**

Chapter 3: Anchor in the Storm

* * *

The being that Heero addressed as Duo froze at the inquiry, his attention suddenly focused directly on the Wing pilot.

Heero blinked at the form of pilot 02 in confusion, and honestly, who could blame him? The being in front of him was Duo Maxwell and yet, it wasn't.

Besides the obvious difference in height (made even more obvious by the way Duo's black priest clothes hung off him like some sort of dress), his hair was, well it looked the same color wise, but it was half braided (far too sloppy, Duo would never allow his hair to get in that condition. ) And it was too short, only falling to the middle of his back.

Then there were his eyes. They weren't Duo's eyes.

Well, they were, but they weren't, if that makes sense.

This Duo had the same color eyes, true, the same unique violet color that was Duo's alone. But _his_ Duo's eyes were filled with light and humor. And even though most of it was a mask, Heero couldn't help but feel that some of that happiness was true. (He was quite serious about this feeling too, since Heero Yuy feeling _anything_ and _admitting_ it, if only to himself, was quite a rare thing.)

This Duo though, his eyes were hard and guarded…haunted. Furthermore, these eyes were filled with something Heero had rarely seen in them, hatred. Annoyance, yes, coldness, yes, but he had never seen hatred filling those eyes, least of all aimed at himself. And then worst of all there was something he had never seen in them no matter what the situation; fear.

Tearing his eyes form those violet orbs he examined the rest of the stranger, the Wing pilot took in the small, clever hands, barley distinguishable because of the long black sleeves, hanging over them, and the muscle development apparent through the cloth and realized with no little shock that the Duo before him was nothing but a child. A very young child.

The perfect soldier was so caught up in this discovery that it took him nearly a minute of examination to notice the clearest attribute of this stranger.

He looked like he was dying.

The boy's face was gaunt and on closer inspection those small clever hands were emaciated and stiff. The hair that Heero knew to be the American's one true pride and joy was dull and wild. And although the boy was unsoiled, it took almost no imagination to be able to picture the boy in filthy rags, covered in grime.

It was almost like watching an animated corpse. The only difference between the two being that the dead can't feel hatred…or fear.

"Duo…" Heero began softly, but never finished. For the first time, in a long time, the perfect soldier was faced with a situation that he didn't know how to deal with. Had Duo been here, the real, happy Duo that wouldn't shut up and brightened everyone's day, had he been here, he would have made some smart-ass comment about a cat having stolen the pilot's tongue, or something along those lines.

This recollection of Duo only drove home the fact that Duo wasn't here. Instead there was a child who looked like Duo, but couldn't _be_ Duo. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the teen was distracted from his thoughts by the object of his contemplation.

At the Japanese youth's words, the boy had jerked back into reality with a flurry of life that almost destroyed his likeness to a walking corpse (almost but not entirely, his clamor only detracted notice away from that aspect of him).

The child's stance lost its uncertainty and fear, as he shifted into a posture that reeked of assurance and arrogance. The sudden change was really what had brought Heero out of his reverie; looking upon this face of the tiny brunette, the teen could make out some traces of the Duo he and the other pilots knew. He was so startled by this revelation (as if the fact that Duo had been switched with a five year old look alike wasn't enough) that he was even uncertain of how to react to the boy's reaction to _him_.

It took a moment for the boy to break eye contact with the teen, but even after he did, the Japanese pilot was unsure of what to do. Heero's uncertainty allowed the child enough time to deal with his own uncertainty. And just as the Wing pilot had begun to regain his equilibrium, the child Duo acted.

Without a moment's hesitation, the boy dove to the side and into a pile of the real Duo's things. Only once the teen had begun to worry that his miniaturized comrade had drowned did he reappear, with an ancient M-9 pistol clutched in his hands.

"Eat lead Alliance scum!" and with that charming pleasantry, the child pilot opened fire on his the teen.

The shot was surprisingly accurate and as such Heero was forced to dodge, thus relinquishing some of his strategic placing in the room. In the time it had taken the blue-eyed teen to dodge, Duo made a mad dash toward the corner he had previously been concealed in. Heero being slightly preoccupied with keeping track of the rogue youth that he didn't even bother contemplating the reference to the Alliance, he would think about it later, since now was hardly the time. He had a brat to catch.

The child was surprisingly quick on his feet considering his physical state and the cumbersome cloth he was ensconced in, however the perfect soldier was faster. Heero rapidly maneuvered around the piles of junk that littered the Deathscythe pilot's floor, until he was blocking the longhaired child's escape route.

The boy's eyes widened in shock when he realized almost too late that he had been cut off, and took a step back. "Bastard! Leave me alone!" The boy raised the gun again to shoot, but the Wing pilot was ready for him this time.

Like lightning the terrorist had crossed the distance between him and the armed youth. An instant before the Duo look alike pulled the trigger, Heero got hold of his arm, managing to throw off the boy's aim. The sound of shattering glass, most likely from the sole window in Duo's room (if Heero had bother to investigate the sound), echoed the resulting wild shot, but neither Heero nor the child had been injured.

Once the shock of Heero's interference had passed, the boy realized what had happened and began to struggle wildly, vainly trying to free himself from the older boy's iron tight grasp. However, Duo quickly realized that his efforts were fruitless and tried something else, using his free hand to make a grab for the weapon still clutched in his captured hand.

Unfortunately for him though, the Japanese teenager seemed to know what he was planning before he himself knew, because the moment he made to snatch the gun out of his other hand, it was already gone. Belatedly, he realized, that his tormentor had removed the firearm and had disposed of it so efficiently that the child had no idea where he had stashed it.

With this realization, the boy's struggles became even wilder, but his thrashings remained unchecked due to Heero's uncertainty in how to deal with a child. He just couldn't help but compare the child-Duo to a little girl he had once met. Her and her puppy.

He probably would have continued contemplating that terrible mistake, but he was distracted by his captive's retaliation, as the child had picked up on his captor's distraction, and had acted accordingly.

With a startled grunt, the pilot released the boy and winced as he inspected his hand. In a fit of very un-perfect solider behavior, he swore. He was bleeding and dammit, he reserved the right to express his displeasure over that fact simply because if Wufei was right, he might actually get rabbis. (AN: Duo bit him, in case you couldn't tell )

In his inattentiveness, Duo had scrambled away from him, backing himself against the far wall of the room. Heero growled lowly in annoyance as he gave his hand one last half-mournful look and made a mental note to wash it thoroughly after he had dealt with… shit.

He couldn't let the kid get away, with his luck, the brat would probably try to kill them all and endanger the mission. Heero decided that if the little monster really was somehow Duo, he would have to pound some sense into his idiotic brain, the second everything got back to normal…however, before he could do any of that, he had a cornered animal to catch.

Cautiously, the Japanese pilot approached the boy, doing his best to cut off any and all escape routs, meaning the window and the door. As he approached, the kid began yelling at him in a plethora of languages, many of which even Heero didn't recognize. From what he could make out though, most of what the mini-Duo was saying was insulting and offensive. Choosing not to wonder about how _Duo Maxwell_ knew more languages than he himself did, Heero prepared himself for anything.

As he had advanced the yelling had become gradually louder and more frantic. Finally, when Heero was almost an arm's length away, the boy made his move. He took off with the same surprising speed that he had used the first time. It hardly mattered that the teen had no idea where the kid was planning on running to, considering that the mini Duo barley got a foot away from the wall before Heero caught him. This time determined to not let the boy get away, Heero grabbed him by both arms and held them behind the boy's back in an iron grip.

The boy struggled wildly for a moment, then calmed enough, to be methodical in his attempts, getting creative enough to try maneuvers that had Heero mildly impressed. However, when it became clear that nothing was working, the child did something that the blue-eyed pilot wasn't prepared for.

The mini-Duo stopped struggling, instead he began to shake. That shuddering was faint, but Heero, being Heero, noticed it all the same.

After a moment, he spoke. "Please," the boy's voice was ragged and his accent was thicker than ever, "Please stop, please go away, I'm sorry. I am, I mean it, I am, please stop, I don't mean no harm really, I didn't."

The Wing pilot could hardly have expected this response, and it put him in an even more awkward position than anything else the kid had done. He had no idea why the boy was acting like this, or whether or not this was an act, or if the miniature Duo really was breaking down before his eyes. After careful deliberation, he decided it was best to just let things play out; he was never good with emotional matters anyway.

While Heero made this decision, the boy seemed to become even more frightened by the second, his words becoming slurred and harder to distinguish, "Please, please just let me go, I didn't mean to, whatever I did, I'm sorry please don't hurt me please, oh please mister please don't touch me, please don't rape me!"

The teen's blood ran cold at those words, and his grip on the child loosened marginally, but the boy didn't even seem to notice as he just began to shake harder and continued to beg in slurred speech, only now he wasn't bothering with pleading in coherent speech.

Heero closed his eyes and swore silently, this explained a lot. Not everything, but enough. This boy, whether or not he was Duo, he was in pain and scared and holding him like a prisoner was not the right way to handle him.

Dammit, why did the others have to leave _him_ to handle this on his own? Even _he_ knew enough to tell now that this kid wasn't faking it. This kid was genuine deal. The boy was also genuinely sure that he was going to get raped. But it didn't matter if Heero knew the truth, because he had absolutely no idea how to handle said truth. Winner and Maxwell were the emotional ones, not him. He noticed distantly that the kid was becoming even more panicked as time passed, but he was at a loss as to what to do. He knew the boy needed comfort but being a perfect soldier didn't involve knowing how to console small children.

The situation would have stayed the same, Duo begging and Heero holding him still, unsure of how to act, but then Duo did something even more startling or shocking than anything else he had done that day.

He began to cry.

It started off so silently that the perfect soldier didn't even notice that the quiet pleading had stopped. However, he couldn't help but notice when the boy's sobs became louder and even more ragged.

At the sound of the child's sobs, the pilot felt his heart tighten in a way that he couldn't recall it ever having done before. Cautiously, Heero let go of the boy, still half expecting him to make a break for it.

The boy didn't run. Instead he fell to the floor, wrapping his arms and around himself, his sobs continuing to flow unchecked.

Unsure of what he was doing or why, Heero warily, stood to his full height, and then carefully maneuvered his way around the crying child. The teen knelt before the boy, hesitant but following an instinct so definite, that he could not ignore it. And thus, with halting movements, Heero reached out with a foreign gentleness and pulled the shaking child to himself.

Awkwardly, Heero held the boy close against his chest, and at first the boy froze, terrified at the unexpected action, but the pilot did not allow himself to be distracted, for fear that any distractions would destroy this opportunity. It didn't matter if this was his first hug, the perfect soldier never did anything half way, simply as a rule.

Even with his lack of experience, he quickly realizing that the hug on its own would not be enough, he tried something else. Almost warily, the teen began to rub circles on the boy's back; he kept up the action for an unknown amount of time, unsure of whether or not it was working. However eventually, he felt the boy's skeletal body begin to relax ever so slightly. A little more confident, Heero stopped the circular movement of one of his hands, in favor of gently petting the boy's hair, in as comforting of a motion as he could manage.

And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the kid began to relax into Heero's embrace. Though, instead of claming down, the tears continued to flow. The pilot could tell, even though he could not see the child's face, because he could feel the tears soaking into his green tank top, and hear the boy's quiet sobs, echoing through his being, striking a chord, that Heero hadn't even known existed.

Forgetting himself, for perhaps the first time in many years, the perfect soldier set aside his mask and allowed himself to be human.

Quietly, Heero began to speak; he wasn't sure what he was saying exactly or even if he was still speaking English, but he didn't think it mattered. The words were tender and soothing and they flowed out from place deep inside of him.

* * *

Heero didn't know how long they sat there on the floor.

He didn't know when himself began to cry, just a few tears, but for him it might as well have been an ocean.

He also didn't know when the child in his arms had quieted his sobs, calmed his shudders and had started holding onto him, or at least his abused tank top.

And finally, he didn't know how long it was until the flow of words came to an end and he reluctantly let go of the boy, carefully setting him down and backing off, to give the boy room.

However he did know that it took only a moment for him to miss the minuscule weight in his embrace, but he knew better than to suffocate someone as broken as this mini-Duo apparently was. Everything till this point had been instinct, but now he was unsure of what to do, unsure if his intuition had been wrong. Almost afraid of what he would find, the teen lifted his eyes to meet those of the boy's.

The boy's eyes, the ones that had previously been hard and guarded, were sill the cautious, as well as red and puffy from crying, but beyond that, there was a look in them now, a look of intense hope, bordering on needing. Gazing into them, Heero could not help but feel the raw need emanating from those violet orbs. He wasn't sure exactly what the need was, but he could feel it in himself as well, for all that that makes sense.

Before the hesitant pilot could figure out what to do, Duo acted first, impulsively, but that was to be expected of the longhaired American, teenage or miniaturized.

The boy looked unsure for a moment, but only a moment. The boy raised his head and stared into Heero's blue eyes and searched them with a demanding gaze. The Wing pilot had no idea what the boy was looking for, but he apparently found it, since after a short eternity, the child broke the eye contact, only to throw himself back into Heero's arms. The teen could only blink his miniaturized comrade clung to him with a desperateness, that threw the older male completely off guard, it was almost as if the boy thought that letting go of Heero would mean being lost forever. "Please, please," begged the boy, "Please, don't let them hurt me. Please don't go, please!"

Heero's eyes widened at this new entreatment, but he understood the boy's pleading, because he could hear the same cry resonating from the very bottom of his soul.

And it was with absolutely no reservations that the Japanese youth returned the little American's hug, and with just as much desperation as he received.

"I won't," he whispered back, "I promise."

* * *

Well there you go, the secret is out, I chibified Duo! 

Heh, I'm sorry, I just always wanted to say that.

Okay, now that I've got that off my chest, I have to say first off that I am incredibly sorry about the super long wait for the update, but I had writer's block (and a raging headache, but that's another story).

Anyway, how was it? I tried to keep Heero in character, but toward the end, it was necessary to the plot that he be at least slightly out of character. Though personally I think that a sobbing Chibi-Duo could move anyone to tears, but that's just me. Also, did the ending come out right or was it corny and stupid? (If you didn't like it please tell me nicely, I'm not really good with bluntness.)

Oh, I also need some help from all my lovely readers; if you're interested in reading more of Halfway to Hell, I need some help coming up with nicknames for all of the pilots, and if you have any ideas they would really be appreciated.

And finally the most important question of all (though I think I'm just repeating myself) was this chapter any good and what did you think about it? However no flames please, just constructive criticism, because I don't think my poor heart can handle blatant cruelty!

R&R


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